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This is a question Self-Inflicted injuries

Spanishfly asks: Ever injured yourself in a moment of frustration? When have you ever done something stupid or sensible that has ended up with you injured? Punched an Asda sign because they didn't have tiger bread? Yeah, us too

This isn't a question about intentional self-harm

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:06)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

scalpals are sharp
Don't do what I did. Changed the blade, then in some fit of stupidness tapped the pointy end to see if it was sharp. Much much bloodjuice.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 14:02, 4 replies)
Bicycle related buffoonery
I was attending a steam rally where there was a large beer tent serving all sorts of lovely ales - which I had been sampling all afternoon.

Being disinclined to walk any further than necessary, I'd borrowed a folding shopping type bike from a friend to get around on. It's small ballon tyres and general wobbly instability meant it was less than ideal for doing wheelies on, but by that stage did I care? I did not, and proceeded, according to onlookers, to perform a series of ever more improbable stunts.

Eventually the inevitable happened and I came back to earth with a crash, my lower abdomen meeting the end of the handlebar with enough force to bend the bar double. The searing pain was enough to sober me up instantly and I dragged my broken body away to die. Well, dear reader, I didn't die but by next morning my balls looked a pair of swollen over ripe plums, and the old chap was a veritable rainbow of green, red, and purple bruising.

It took some weeks for things to return to normal, but a few months later I noticed a lump in the groinal area, which gradually became larger and more painful until I couldn't walk more than a hundred or so yards without having to sit down and recover.

I ended up by being referred to a very nice surgeon who informed me that the ruptured abdominal muscle would need to be repaired and reinforced and if I'd have come to see him a year or so back the operation would have been a lot easier and I wouldn't have had such a long scar afterwards.

Still, I did get eight weeks off work on full pay while I recovered…

Man gets pissed, crashes pushbike, needs surgical attention afterwards to fix rupture.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 13:36, 2 replies)
I suppose this counts as self-inflicted.
"Could I have a hand moving this bookcase?"

"Fuck's sake, Love. You're pregnant, not handicapped".

Then, after a moment's quiet reflection...

"Should I save us both some time and just punch myself in the testicles?"
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:54, 2 replies)
lol i broked my dick in ur mom frofl

(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:39, 4 replies)
If you respond to the thousand word fuckdullery of witless attention seekers even to tell them that it's dull then they'll keep posting and it'll be your fault.
/top tips for avoiding self-inflicted misery
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:38, 7 replies)
Tedious, twenty paragraph long and question-irrelevant 'anecdote' from Dr Skagra, something about once meeting a guy that later cut off his own ear.

(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:37, 3 replies)
Experiments: so you don't have to
Small amount of explosive material, in a sealed container, in a ceramic bathroom sink.

Two broken fingers, and a smashed sink.

Saved you the trouble.

You're welcome.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:34, 1 reply)
Whilst my mum was at the checkout in Tesco
I went and sat on one of the units holding empty cardboard boxes for customers. Swinging my legs, they connected with a box below and propelled me off forwards, head first.

Woke up by the customer information desk, staff called for my mother and a nice old lady offered me sweets.

Only once we got home and my headache subsided did I notice the pain in my shoulder, cue a trip to A+E and one broken collarbone.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:18, 6 replies)
One new years eve
Myself and my mate Jay were invited to a party hosted by Jays landlord held at the shared house where he was living. I took a slab of Budweiser along and it was a lively enough party with drinking games, loud music and much fun and merriment were had. Everything was going swimmingly and after polishing off the lager and most of the other guests had left my mate suggested we crack open a bottle of Jack Daniels that he had got for xmas and stick a much watched video of The Killer on the telly. While watching this Hong Kong gun fest and bolstered by the warm glow of alcohol we decided to have a "See how many BB gun pellets you can take being fired at you from close range" competition.
Jays BB gun wasn't a particularly puny firearm and only the week before we had proved its veracity by firing at the metal letterbox on my front door, covering it with many dimpled dents so to fire it at close range onto skin wasnt a particularly good idea.
Perhaps i should have been warned that i had had far too much to drink and should really go home when even firing the said gun at my chest failed to cause me much pain. Instead we went onto bigger and better things when Jay bolted his room door and to prove his mastery of all things martial arts (drunk fu) he punched it and bent the bolt. My stupid fuzzy steeped in alcohol brain at this point decided that i wasn't going to be outdone by this so taking an almighty swing i hit the door and took it off its hinges.

Finally the shock value of this utterly senseless property damage coupled with the dull ache in my hand and the realisation that we had gone through three quarters of a bottle of Jack got through to me and i realised it was time to leave. I remember walking out the door and apparently travelled home in the beer Tardis as i have absolutely no recollection of the journey.

My next conscious memory gentle reader is one of pain. Oh my fucking god what had i done. Not only had i got a monstrous hangover (eyeballs replaced with red hot chilli soaked marbles and a tongue which tasted like a lavatory carpet) but i looked and felt like i had been savaged by a giant steroid pumped octopus. My chest, arms and legs were covered in angry round bruises and my hand was on fire.
The lasting legacy of all this is that because i didn't go straight to casualty, tried to man it out and put it off till a week or so later the knuckle on the little finger of my right hand is definitely not where it is supposed to be as it is around half an inch further up my hand. These days i definitely do not mix my drinks!
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 12:16, Reply)
The slops jar
When I were a lad, I was heavily into model railways. (Stamp collecting was a bit too exciting, and internet porn was several decades into the future). I particularly liked the modelling part, creating the landscapes, buildings and so on. I always tried to make things look realistic, which meant dirtying things up - rust streaks, soot blackening, and so on. For that purpose, when I'd finished a project I'd tip any spare paint into my Slops Jar - which ended up a nice grungy brown colour, and watered down with thinners made a great "dirty wash".

As my skills improved, I eventually asked for an airbrush as a Christmas present. With great excitement I started to practice using it, first spraying a nice cloudscape as a backdrop, then experimenting with other effects. Eventually I decided to quit for the day, and, as was my habit, dumped the remaining paint into the slops jar.

Now when I say "dumped", I actually mean "picked up the jar, pointed the airbrush into it, and pressed the trigger." Which meant that the entire contents of the jar of brownish, spirit-thinned glop was blasted out, and straight into my face, mouth and eyes. Apparently there was a perfect silhouette, like a Hiroshima victim, on the wall behind me, but I was too busy howling in agony as my eyes and mouth burned to notice.

It took weeks for people to stop asking me if I was Indian.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 11:41, 4 replies)
Builders! Nothing gets me more angry than bloody builders
I had a builder scheduled to start some work on my house and he asked if he could drop a load of sand on my driveway a few days before starting the job. I told he that I would agree, but ONLY on condition that he do it with my supervision, so it can go where it will not block access. I said that I would be at home from 12:30 to 1pm the following day. I drove home (in my lunch break) as planned and arrived on the dot at 12:29... to be faced with the builder turning out of my driveway having ALREADY dropped the huge pile of sand RIGHT SMACK IN THE WRONG PLACE blocking access to both my front door and my neighbour's. He gave me a smile and a cheery wave as he sped off.

I got out of my car fuming with rage and punched a brick wall.

Afternoon spent in local A&E.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 11:30, Reply)
Chopping wood
Don't chop wood when you've been drinking red wine and brandy.

It will end badly and leave you with a nice scar on your thumb.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 11:07, Reply)
If you see some fuckwit letting of a CO2 fire extinguisher in the middle of a crowded area
Do not grab it off him by the nearest exposed part in case it's the pipe that connects the body of the fire extinguisher to the horn. It gets very cold and will rip skin off when you drop the fucking thing, whilst shouting "Fuck!"

The distraction caused by the pain will also allow him to bolt off, therefore denying you the satisfaction of rugby tackling him to the floor, dragging him unceremoniously away and slinging him out of the nearest convenient exit.

You get some pretty shitty blisters too.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 10:33, Reply)

(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 10:32, 3 replies)
I got stabbed by the protagonist of the Martin Amis novel 'Money'.

(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 10:29, Reply)
Ski splat
Me and Mrs Duck in the halcyon days before children went on a skiing holiday. Load of mates full board chalet with our own slave chalet girl. Lovely

Everyone else could ski really well and we had never been. So we learned the baby steps of skiing whilst 5 year old French kids zoomed and carved epic turns around us.

2 days in we could make our way to the top of the nursery slope without falling off the button lift and make our way slowly down like an old dear with a Zimmer frame crossing the nursing home tearoom (neither of us were natural skiers)

On the day in question it had snowed the night before. Not just a bit but a shit load and we found that it was easier to ski in freshly fallen snow. So we began to go down with a little more confidence. About half way down the nursery slope it went around a wall of snow in a gentle bend.

Mrs Duck, confidence to maximum, shot off down the slope at speeds only dreamed of the day before. At the bend she fucked up the turn and went sideways into the wall. As I said it had been snowing hard and it had drifted so the wall was covered in fluffy snow to a several feet deep. Mrs Duck embedded in deep and left a Wile E Coyote style outline in the wall. I fell over in a tangle of skis and poles because I was laughing so much.

Unfortunately after I had finished laughing and got to my feet I realised I'd done something to my knee and I couldn't bare any weight on it. Mrs duck was uninjured but decided she wasn't cut out for skiing.

We took our skis back to the hire shop and spent a very enjoyable holiday drinking alcohol laced coffee & hot chocolate high in the alps with fantastic views in freezing sunshine. Taking the cable car back down and joining in with the après-ski fun in the evening.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 9:46, Reply)
Mate of mine was painting a bench
When he was half done he sat on the dry half and lit up a cigarette. During the transition from Johnny Storm to the Human Torch I assume he thought oops that paint is flammable isn't it?
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 8:42, 2 replies)
Which time?
[Wavy Lines]
I worked at a factory making wheelchairs before embarking on my first business doing repairs and maintenance on them. My boss was an ex-girlfriend's dad (long after the fact) and he knew I smoked a bit - altho never at work. Others weren't fussed too much about the health and safety issues involved in sucking down a canbong every 5 mins whilst operating heavy metalworking machinery.
I was standing at a belt sander/bench grinder linishing some brake couplings and after turning the machine off I turned to my neighbour to say something. As I did, the slowing-down belt caught my glove and pulled my left ring finger thru the smaller of the belts wheels.

Now as any nong who's done even the most basic metalwork will tell you - never wear gloves around machines that have rotating parts for this very reason.
And as any nong who's done even the most basic metalwork will tell - linishing small parts makes them hot. Very hot. So unless you have asbestos hands then basically you have to wear gloves to protect your dainty mitts!

So there I was with a ringfinger now facing the wrong way. As you might expect spiral fractures fucking hurt. Now at this point the foreman - who shall be further known as "Forecunt" and was the obligatory gnarled old workshop lackey made good and earnt his spot so was a royal cunt to everyone because we were all beneath him came and over and not believing me yanked my glove off - pulling the broken bones even more out of kilter. I'm fairly quiet as I'm desperately trying not to vomit or faint with the pain. Forecunt tells me I have to drive myself, in the work ute up to the local medical centre. I point out (thru gritted teeth) that it probably wouldn't be very safe for me to do so as I'm in a slightly-distracting amount of pain and couldn't properly grip the steering wheel. Which he grudgingly agrees with. And drives me grumblingly up to see the doc.

Who, after a brief wait asks why I'm there as this is a workers' compensation issue and is serious enough to have gone to emergency for. She asks what was done to treat me onsite - I point at Forecunt and tell her about his gentle glove removal technique. She splints and imobilises my finger (now about the size of an orange and still facing the wrong way), gives me the strongest painkillers she's got, admonishes the Forecunt and sends me off to emergency to get my finger xrayed and reset.

Forecunt dropped me off at emergency. With my wallet in my bag. At work. So, no id, no money, no fucking anything on me apart from a note from the Dr. Several painfilled hours later I jumped in a cab back to work - to find my bag sitting on the letterbox. Thanks for that Forecunt.

Anyhoo I turned up the following Mon. with my finger splinted preparedto do something. Only to be told I couldn't be onsite due to the insurance issues. That turned into nearly 2 months off work before the doc would put me down as "fit to work" let alone cleared. At least I was paid and had my medical bills covered.
The one day I got a phone call. Could I come down to the office to meet with Ex's Dad and Forecunt. So off I toddled and upon arrival was ushered into a meeting room with the 2 of them, a lawyer and a canbong in the middle of the table. Bear in mind this is weeks since I've been to work, unable to due to an injury and a doctor signing my certificates. I hadn't been smoking whilst on painkillers. When they accused me of smoking bongs at work I simply stated to them that there was no physical way they could prove whether I had or hadn't been smoking on the day. When they tried to get me to sign a disclaimer I told them that as the workshop's union rep I would get the union lawyer to check it (which I did) and get back to them.
The next meeting went a bit differently. I handed them the brief I'd got from the union lawyer. In it was a very carefully worded agreement that gave me a couple of months severance pay and my accrued holiday pay & also a specifically worded letter stating that the company would take responsibility for any further medical treatment I needed for my finger, NOT including re-injury and allowing for any lump sum compensation.

I flipped the the wedding finger as I left with my fat cheque and signed paperwork.

Apparently Forecunt hurt his back and got a big payout from them a few years later. Hope they searched his workspace for canbongs.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 7:49, 16 replies)
Safety guards are there for a reason
Back in the day when I had a welding job instead of the cushy office job I have now, I was working late on a Friday afternoon trying to get a job done. I had to cut some small welds, and the weapon I'd chosen for the job was a very large, 7" angle grinder with a brand new cutting blade and no guard - it would just get in the way, right? Rush + power tools without proper safety equipment = bad things. This large grinder had a lot of power, and as it dug into the metal, it slipped out of my hands. Before I knew what happened, it had cut into the knuckle of the index finger on my left hand. I had visions of losing half my finger. Somehow, it only ended up being a minor flesh wound, despite there being little in the way of flesh on the knuckle. I cleaned it up, put a bandage on it, and forgot about it. I guess I didn't clean it well enough, because when it healed, there was still carbon dust in there, and there's now a permanent black line on my knuckle. I call it my idiot tattoo, a permanent reminder that if you're going to do a job, you rush through it at your peril.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 3:20, Reply)
I stuck my cock in a fat bird.
You might not think that's an injury.

You didn't have my mates :-(

She was a bit ginger too.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 1:11, 11 replies)
"This isn't a question about intentional self-harm"
Well that's a shame, I'm pretty sure we'd have had some lovely stories from the diverse collective which would be worthy of some top quality bullying.
It might even incite some fence sitters to stop fucking about and get into cutting themselves this week.

Another missed opportunity.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 0:56, 2 replies)
when I was a nipper of six my parents had my teacher around to my house for tea, as she lived only a block away
when she left to walk home I decided to show off on on my bike on the street out the front by riding with my feet on the handlebars. I did a nice pass-by like the red arrows before going straight into a parked car and opening up my chin. still have a jagged scar there
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 0:15, Reply)
Scalpels are designed to cut flesh
So when you try to peel an orange with one, you really won't notice where the orange stops and the webbing between your thumb and forefinger starts. The wound will then pull apart and make a huge fucking mess, and a relatively disappointing scar:

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 23:25, 5 replies)
I was once assembling a bookcase and one of the horizontal boards slipped out and hit me on the cock.

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 22:53, 1 reply)
Once you pop...
Walking home from the pub with my mate one night, we spotted a pringles can sitting perfectly upright on the pavement.

Turns out it was a metal pipe cemented into the ground. I laughed all the way home, with my mate trailing several yards behind me with a fucked foot.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 21:25, 1 reply)
Working under a car
I reached out to grab a spanner and dislocated my shoulder - Ow
I couldn't pop it back in by rolling over reloacting it because there was a car above me (was on ramps)
I had to crawl out with a lifeless arm and then roll over and pop it back in
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 21:10, 2 replies)
A well known intellectual and author of several popular novels once reversed his car into me. As I lay broken on the floor in a puddle of my own vomit, I remember thinking "if only there was a way I could work this story into a torturous pun for QOTW..."

But nothing came to mind.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 19:54, 14 replies)
Seeing Stars
Ran down some outdoor market stall pitches at night (pissed). Failed to stop at the truss beam in the middle and knocked myself out. Remember seeing stars (like in the cartoons). Forehead in the morning developed a lump the size of a yam.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 19:53, Reply)
I'm not entirely sure how it happened
But I once managed to run over my own finger while skateboarding.

It hurt quite a lot.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 19:43, 7 replies)
Such a long list, I have deliberate and accidental injuries.
Kicked a box in a warehouse because I was angry with the warehouse manager for failing yet again to check the work of the checkers and screwed an order for a major account. I expected the box to be empty or at least soft. The box had NiCad mobile phone batteries inside. Broken toe, days off work. Anger does not pay. Gives others laughs though.

Could have pushed the door frame to open the two way door, but no always the glass. One tantrum type push had my fist going through the glass. I am often told that if your hand goes through glass then extract the hand carefully as the major tearing happens on the way out. So, I removed the hand carefully and looked at the dorsal thumb side of the hand, no blood. I then looked at the knuckles, no blood. posterior of hand, no blood. Fantastic, the careful withdraw worked. Not so, from the little finger to 4 inches past the wrist there was an fantastic cut which for some reason did not hurt at all and took a good few seconds to bleed, 18 stitches. Very odd. Anger does not pay.

I was out once in my car and I saw this bully from school. . .
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 18:54, 6 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1